


Feels Like Home

by dayoldcupcake



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:06:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13756938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayoldcupcake/pseuds/dayoldcupcake
Summary: Kageyama dreams every night, and each time he gets to see a little more of the picture.  Some nights, he’s happy to spend the night stargazing with his knight, but other nights, the ones where he has to stand there silently, a ghost, while he watches a too-young Hinata weep over his grave, he wishes the dreams would stop altogether.





	Feels Like Home

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Forever and Always](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1925097) by [talonyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth/pseuds/talonyth). 



> I've always loved the idea of one-half of a pair having dreams that are really visions of past lives, and I loved talonyth's Forever and Always so much that I used it as my inspiration for this variation on that theme, though like all fanfiction, I've taken liberties with the source material. :)

Kageyama never dreamt much before he met Hinata.  A few short weeks after their second meeting, however, he started losing sleep to them for the first time in his life.  He’d toss and turn on certain nights, plagued by visions of Hinata choking at crucial moments during tournaments and gruesome scenes of spectators taken out by an especially bungled serve of Hinata’s.  Other times Kageyama would dream that he’d been given an important opportunity, such as an invitation to join the national team, only to find Hinata gripping him by the waist and literally holding him back from it.  The result was that his feelings toward his incompetent new teammate were further soured, and some days he’d be irrationally furious with Hinata for reasons the smaller boy could never figure out.

Mercifully, as their partnership developed and Kageyama’s feelings toward Hinata warmed, the nightmares began fading away and Kageyama soon returned to blissful, dreamless sleep.

His respite lasted nearly a year, but then things changed again—this time with a flower.

Kageyama was jogging through the mountains on a warm Sunday afternoon when he came across the harmless little thing.  It was poking out from a clump of weeds, the only bright spot in an expanse of green, and though he only saw it peripherally, it immediately froze him in his tracks.  Flooded with dread and anxious confusion, Kageyama could suddenly recall the other times this had happened, with a sewing needle, a muddy shirt, a crow’s feather, a pair of rusted scissors—all innocent objects that had also sent ice rushing through his veins and filled him with unspeakable panic.  These things clearly represented something important, but he couldn’t remember what or why, and Kageyama knew he’d forget about the flower just as he’d forgotten about the other things.  The thought was comforting; the feelings they brought about were deeply unsettling and when he sprinted away, it was as much to escape them as it was to leave behind the flower itself.

That night, having forgotten all about the incident, Kageyama dreams for the first time in years.

_He’s still in bed, warm and heavy with sleep, but when he cracks open his eyes, the room is unfamiliar.  It’s simple and bare, with just a wooden dresser and a single undressed window through which he can see the sun is high in the sky.  There’s a knock and the door opens before he can answer it.  He spots small hands and then one golden eye peering in._

_“Hinata?” Kageyama asks, deeply confused._

_“Hey,” Hinata answers, cautiously stepping into the room.  He looks several years too young and his clothes are simple, hand-made, but what confounds Kageyama more than either of these things is his expression.  Kageyama has never seen so much sorrow in Hinata’s eyes, not even when they’d lost to Seijoh or that time the vice principal had interrupted practice to tell Hinata there’d been an accident involving his sister._

_“How are you feeling?” Hinata asks.  Kageyama can’t look at his face, at his heartbroken expression, so he lets his gaze drift downward.  He notices Hinata’s hands, twisted up together and squeezed so tight his knuckles are turning white._

_“Fine,” Kageyama answers, glancing back up and giving his best attempt at a smile.  Now that he thinks about it, he’s heavy with more than sleep, and it doesn’t make sense that he’s resting in the middle of the afternoon, but at the moment he only cares about comforting Hinata._

_Hinata smiles in return, but it’s transparent, fake.  His eyes are shining with tears when he reaches for Kageyama’s hands, grasping them tight.  He leans over and almost kisses Kageyama’s forehead, but seems to think better of it and leans back again.  His eyes never leave Kageyama’s.  “Good,” he whispers.  He’s a terrible liar.  “That’s really good.”_

_It’s clear they both have much more to say; the air hangs heavy with everything left unspoken, but they both seem content to stay together in the silence, staring and clutching each other’s hands, until Kageyama drifts back to wakefulness._

***

“Are you feeling alright?”

Kageyama looks up to find his mother staring at him just as hard as he’d been staring at his sunny-side-up eggs.  They’re weirding him out for some reason, but he can’t quite place it.

“Yah,” he says, scooping up the offending things and stuffing them into his mouth.  For some inexplicable reason, Hinata keeps popping into his mind, but then he remembers why; they promised to meet early and practice, so Kageyama scarfs down the remainder of his breakfast and rushes out the door.

When he arrives at school, he finds Hinata is already there, waiting for him at the entrance and clutching a volleyball to his chest.

“Finally!” Hinata shouts in lieu of a greeting, grabbing a fistful of Kageyama’s sleeve and pulling him off to the side.  “What took you so long?  Did you forget?  You promised you’d toss to me before school!”

Kageyama merely grunts, unwilling to offer an apology even for something this minor, but he allows himself to be dragged off to a secluded corner of the courtyard.  He’s silent throughout their practice; Hinata talks enough for ten people and has long since stopped getting offended by Kageyama’s default state of silent and scowling.  They practice until the bell rings and then an additional ten minutes, neither caring about the consequences of showing up late to homeroom.

At the end of the day, Hinata tugs him aside and grasps Kageyama’s hands in his.

“Promise,” Hinata says, “You won’t be late tomorrow!  I really need the practice!”

 _Obviously_ , Kageyama wants to say; he wants to remind Hinata of his many tremendous weaknesses, but he can’t.  The feeling of Hinata’s hands around his has rendered him mute.  It’s only the third time they’ve held hands—Kageyama remembers each time in detail—but it feels like the hundredth.  There’s a recent memory associated with this, too; he can tell it’s there, but he can’t access it, and he huffs and scowls, feeling confused and desperately frustrated with his inability to remember.

“What?” Hinata asks.  His voice is getting pitchy with panic.  “Are you kicking me off the team?  I know I wasn’t at my best today but you can’t just—“

“I can’t kick you off the team, idiot, I’m not the captain,” Kageyama says, scowling. 

“Then why were you looking at me like that!?”

“I wasn’t looking at you like anything,” Kageyama lies.  He turns and heads off, shaken and suddenly wanting to be far away from Hinata.  He feels his arm tugged backward and scowls deeper.

“Wait, what about practice tomorrow morning?” Hinata asks, weighing down Kageyama’s arm with the entirety of his bodyweight.  When Kageyama dares a glance, he sees Hinata is pouting and wishes it wasn’t so effective.

“Fine,” Kageyama agrees.  He shakes his arm free and walks home as quickly as he can without seeming as panicked as he feels.

***

A few days later, they’re eating lunch together outside and it happens again.

They sneak off together most days, find a quiet spot to scarf down their boxed lunches and then toss around a ball until they’re pulled apart by the bell signaling cleaning time.  But today Hinata is exhausted from an English test, dramatically sprawled out under a tree, neglecting his food and bitching about how unfair it is that he has to learn English and why can’t westerners just learn Japanese?  Kageyama is focused on his sausages, mostly tuning Hinata out, but a kick to his shin gets his attention and he looks up. 

Something goes wrong with his vision, then; Hinata isn’t in his school uniform, resting; he’s dressed like someone from the 12th century and the grass beneath him is stained red with a growing pool of blood.  Kageyama’s hands are on Hinata’s chest before he can think about it, wanting to staunch the bleeding, but then just as suddenly as it came it goes, and he’s faced not with a fatally wounded solider but rather with the very puzzled face of his teammate.

“Um, are you okay?” Hinata asks, both eyebrows raised so high they’re barely visible under his bangs.

“Yes,” Kageyama answers, a little too defensively.  “Why?”

“Uh, because you suddenly—“ Hinata starts to say, glancing down at Kageyama’s hands; they’re still pressed firmly against his chest.  Realizing this, Kageyama quickly pulls them away. 

“It’s nothing.”

“So you just felt me up for no reason?” Hinata says, lip quirking into a smirk, but then he catches himself.  Looking so full of regret it makes Kageyama nauseas, Hinata hastily scrambles up into a sitting position and leans forward, eyes way too wide.  “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine,” Kageyama says, a little angrily; he doesn’t want to get into this again.  Kageyama looks away, disgusted by the pity but also because something about the way Hinata is leaning on his arms, the way his legs are half-bent, half-spread, twists something deep in Kageyama’s gut that he can’t deal with right now.

“Okay, well,” Hinata mumbles.  Neither of them can think of anything to say after that, so they stare down into their lunches until the bell saves them.

***

_“Have you ever met someone new, and they just... feel like home?” Hinata asks him._

_“I don’t know what home feels like,” Kageyama says, feeling the truth of this weighing heavily on his chest._

_They’re lying on their backs and gazing up at the stars.  The air smells strongly of flowers, of roses and poppies and countless others, and a quick glance around places them in some sort of massive castle garden.  Hinata is beaten and bruised beside him, and Kageyama should feel alarmed by this, but he isn’t.  He’s simply too happy to finally have a companion after years of soul-crushing loneliness—and oh right, he remembers now, Hinata is training to be a knight, so of course he’s going to be a little roughed up._

_Kageyama spends the night trying to teach Hinata to recognize constellations but Hinata is as hopeless as always.  Kageyama should be frustrated, but he isn’t; he’s just pleased to have an excuse to keep spending time with him out here like this._

The moment Kageyama wakes up, he searches his room for a pen and paper.  He can’t find either so he settles for his phone; he opens his e-mail, clicks _new message_ , and starts typing everything he can remember. 

_Hinata was some kind of knight.  We were looking at the stars.  I was..._

But what he was, he’s already forgotten.  Despite this, Kageyama saves the draft three times before putting his phone away.

Over the next few days, the list of details grows and the larger pictures become easier to see.  Kageyama starts leaving a pen and notebook by his bed so he can record as much as possible before the memories of the dreams fade.  As soon as he writes something down, he remembers it, and each day it becomes easier to recall more and more of the following night’s dream.  Kageyama starts to notice a pattern then, too; there are really only two dreams that keep reoccurring.  In one, he and Hinata are simple farm boys and best friends, but Kageyama falls ill and dies, leaving Hinata heartbroken and alone.  In the other, he’s a prince and Hinata is his guard and only friend, but in that one it’s Hinata who dies, leaving Kageyama heartbroken, covered in blood, and desperately alone once again.

He dreams every night, and each time he gets to see a little more of one or the other.  Some nights, he’s happy to spend the night stargazing with his knight, but other nights, the ones where he has to stand there silently, a ghost, while he watches a too-young, too-small Hinata weep over his grave, he wishes the dreams would stop altogether.

It doesn’t take long for his teammates to register that something is wrong, even as Kageyama tries to hide his unraveling nerves.  He thinks he’s doing a better job than he is, but then Hinata takes a hard fall at practice and Kageyama feels his blood run ice-cold.  Hinata is already back on his feet and laughing about it, but Kageyama still can’t move and by the time he regains mobility, the entire team is watching him with matching expressions of grave concern.

“Kageyama?” Daichi asks, and it’s clear he’s been calling his name for a while.

“It’s nothing,” Kageyama mutters.

The team resumes practice and nobody mentions it further, but Kageyama can feel their eyes following him.  Afterward, Kageyama exits the locker room to find Hinata waiting for him with crossed arms.  He’s fidgeting, a very obvious tell that he’s somewhat terrified of how Kageyama is going to react to whatever he’s about to do or say.

“You’ve been staring at me all week,” Hinata observes.  “And today... is it because of...?”

“No,” Kageyama interrupts

“I’m sorry I ran away,” Hinata continues, obviously unconvinced.  “I wanted to answer you, but—“

“It’s fine,” Kageyama says, cutting him off again.  “I don’t care.  I didn’t sleep well last night, but it’s got nothing to do with you.”

Hinata makes a desperate little noise and starts twisting his hands together.  His knuckles start turning white and Kageyama remembers, clearly this time, the younger, dream-Hinata wearing a similar expression and pouring his own anxieties into the same tell.  He remembers the desire to comfort Hinata no matter what—to make him stop twisting his hands that way—and keeps his mouth shut.

“But I wanted you to know,” Hinata finally says, staring at Kageyama like he’s afraid he’ll get shut down again.  When he isn’t, he continues, “I didn’t want to say no, but... I just, um, I wasn’t really...” His voice fades away and he stares at the ground, frowning deeply.  Kageyama’s seen that expression before too, when Hinata was taking a test he didn’t know any of the answers to.

“Can I ask you something?” Kageyama asks.

“What?” Hinata replies, looking up.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“I’m not sure I know what that is,” Hinata admits, tilting his head to the side.

“Nevermind, I forgot you were an idiot,” Kageyama says, huffing, but there’s no menace behind it.

“So are you though,” Hinata mutters back.

***

That night, he doesn’t dream; he has a nightmare.

_Hinata’s eyes are lifeless as his body hangs still from the rafters.  Kageyama stands there, staring and clutching a piece of paper.  He doesn’t move all night._

When Kageyama wakes up, he doesn’t write anything down.  He’s eager to forget this one.

Kageyama has unlocked something in his memory, though, and remember it he does.  He spends the day avoiding Hinata at all costs, especially after their eyes meet during cleaning time and he nearly has a full panic attack right there in the stairwell.  At practice, he doesn’t toss to Hinata even once, still won’t look at him, and he can feel his sanity slipping away with the whispers of his worried teammates.  He excuses himself before Daichi can dismiss them, but Hinata is too fast and blocks him from leaving.

“What’s wrong with you, Kageyama?  What did I do this time?” Hinata yells, grabbing two fistfuls of his jacket and jerking Kageyama down to his level.

“Nothing,” Kageyama hisses back, focusing his eyes on a flagpole off to the side.

“And today?” Hinata continues, his voice rising in both volume and octave.  “In the stairway??  You looked at me like I was a ghost!”

“Maybe you are,” Kageyama mutters, considering that he’s now seen Hinata die twice.

“Kageyama,” Hinata says, his voice suddenly very, very soft.  “I’m _sorry_ I ran away when you confessed, okay?  It’s not like I don’t like you!  I just— I don’t know if I’m—“

“I told you, that’s got nothing to do with anything,” Kageyama shouts, suddenly furious himself.  He then makes the mortal mistake of turning to glare at Hinata, of looking straight into those wide eyes, and the panic attack comes rushing at him like a bullet train.  He roughly shoves Hinata away and runs off, leaving Hinata too stunned to follow.

Before he crawls into bed that night, Kageyama falls to his knees and lets a few frustrated tears fall.  He begs the universe, several gods he doesn’t really believe in, and then the benevolent ghost of his old knight to let him have dreamless sleep, or for him to at least dream of climbing trees or watching stars, but his groveling goes unanswered.

_He should move, should leave or turn away or at least read the letter clenched in his fist, but he can’t.  He doesn’t need to, either; he knows that Hinata did this to himself, just as he knows it’s all his fault.  He failed Hinata in this life and deserves the purgatory of seeing exactly what his failure cost his soulmate._

When Kageyama finally, mercifully wakes up, he reaches immediately for his notebook.  He opens it not to record any of the horrific details, but rather to relieve the happier memories of his other dreams.  He comforts himself with the six and a half pages of sloppily written recollections, and then when he gets to the end, picks up his pencil.  One word has been echoing around his head for nearly twenty minutes, so he shakes off his reservations and writes it down on its own line, followed only by a question mark.   _Soulmate?_

He considers skipping school altogether, but his mother won’t hear of it, so he goes but evades Hinata throughout the day.  He skips after-school practice, instead choosing to wander around the emptier sections of the school.  When a girl from the flower arranging club innocently asks why he’s not at volleyball practice, he ducks into the nearest empty room just to avoid having to answer.  It’s the music room, and Kageyama sits down at the piano and drops his head onto its hard black cover.  He lets out a sound like a dying rabbit and tries not to think about how he’s going to make it home without Hinata somehow intercepting him.  He doesn’t like worrying Hinata any more than he wants to be subjected to more of his waffling over why he doesn’t want to date Kageyama.

_Soulmate._

Kageyama considers this again and lifts his head.  Never in his dreams were there any signs of romance, but Hinata literally died saving him once, and death tended to part them before giving them much of a chance.  If they were tied together by fate, it was only a matter of time, he figured, but glowering at Hinata for being unsure certainly wouldn’t woo him.  When Kageyama had first confessed, Hinata sputtered for a minute before running away, and in their conversations since, Hinata has never actually turned him down.  As small and stupid and skittish as Hinata can be, he certainly knows how to say _no_ when he wants, and perhaps Kageyama shouldn’t lose hope yet.

Looking down at the piano, Kageyama realizes he’s getting that feeling of déjà-vu again.  He didn’t recognize it at first because there’s no dread accompanying the eerie familiarity—this time, for the first time, an object is familiar but entirely comforting.  Feeling a little insane, Kageyama lifts the guard to reveal the keys underneath.  He places his hands on them—he knows how to position his fingers, somehow—and _plays_.  The music is so comforting he doesn’t even fret over the fact that he’s never, ever, not once in his life, touched a piano before, but is now playing a beautifully intricate composition as effortlessly as he sets in volleyball.

That night, he finds the answer, once again, in his dreams.

_Hinata is clinging to him behind the stage at a massive auditorium.  Kageyama has his arms around him, thinks he can stop Hinata’s shaking if he only holds him close enough.  He tells Hinata to take deep breaths, which he does, and they stay like that until a man calls for them to take their places.  Still shaking, though noticeably less, Hinata follows Kageyama onto the lighted stage.  Hinata picks up his violin with a tremble only Kageyama can see, they lock eyes and Kageyama gives him an encouraging nod, and then they play.  Everything is perfect and the sold-out audience adores them.  Afterward, still shaking, Hinata can’t stop smiling at Kageyama.  They return to the home they share together, eat dinner together, and fall into bed together.  Hinata never says a word, but Kageyama can read everything from Hinata’s smiling face and shining eyes.  He’s finally home._

Kageyama reads over his entry eight times before he feels confident that he hasn’t missed anything.  He really doesn’t want to miss anything.

Unsurprisingly, Hinata is waiting for him at school, standing at the front gate like a neglected dog.  He’s trying his best to look pissed, but Kageyama can see the worry underneath.

“I was sick,” Kageyama says.

“Liar,” Hinata hisses back.

Kageyama assures Hinata over and over again, over the course of the entire day, that he won’t miss practice again.  He even tosses to Hinata over lunch as penance, but Hinata still stalks him from his classroom to the gym, eyeing him suspiciously the entire way, as if he might dart away at any minute.

Things slowly return to normal—or something close to it.  The dreams keep coming, but they’re good now, although sometimes too good. 

_Sometimes, when they fall into bed together at the end of the night, they curl up together and go right to sleep.  Other times, they discard clothes with each step, often with Hinata tugging Kageyama along, but sometimes with Kageyama as the pursuer.  Tonight, Kageyama carries a thrashing Hinata over his shoulder.  He expects to hear something like delighted squealing but then remembers that in this life, Hinata has no voice.  Kageyama can see that he’s laughing, though, and when Kageyama dumps him on the bed, Hinata immediately reaches for him, his face alight with happiness._

_Kageyama drops onto Hinata and they fight for dominance as they kiss.  Hinata loses the fight a little too easily and seems all too happy to find himself pinned beneath Kageyama, even as he continues struggling for show.  Kissing turns into wandering hands, then wandering fingers and tongues, and then Kageyama is sinking into Hinata and thanking the universe for pulling them together and allowing them to get away with such unnatural acts.  He wishes at times that Hinata could speak, especially at moments like these, but it’s his disability that grants them the excuse to live together—in the eyes of society, Hinata is damaged, and Kageyama is a saint to care for him, something nobody else wants to do._

_Hinata is hardly damaged, Kageyama thinks, stroking his hair and kissing his sweaty forehead.  If anything, Kageyama can only imagine how damaged he’d have been had he been cursed to live alone.  Most people don’t take a liking to him, and Hinata is the saint for finding reasons to not only like him, but to love him._

When Kageyama wakes up, he’s almost too preoccupied cleaning up his sheets to remember to write it all down, which he does, cheeks burning the entire time.

***

After practice, when Hinata tugs Kageyama aside, he isn’t sure what to expect.  He’s been acting pretty normal, he thinks, and worries somehow Hinata has learned to read minds and knows exactly what sorts of things Kageyama does to him in his sleep.

“Do you, uh,” Hinata mumbles, twisting his hands together.  He’s shaking, too, and Kageyama wants badly to squeeze him until he stops.  “Still like me?” Hinata finishes, eyes glued to the asphalt.

“Of course, idiot,” Kageyama answers.

“No, I mean like—“

“I know what you mean,” Kageyama interrupts.  “Still, yes.”  The long silence that follows nearly kills Kageyama, so he sighs and takes two steps forward, leaving very little distance between them.  “Why?  Do you finally wanna go out with me?”

“Um,” Hinata offers, peering up like a frightened animal.  “Yes,” he says, and then immediately after, holding up both hands, shouts, “BUT!!” He pauses, eyeing Kageyama like he very well might pounce, and takes a deep breath.  “I’m not ready for—certain stuff.  You gotta promise you won’t be all... you!  Intense and stuff!”

“Fine,” Kageyama agrees, too happy about this development to feel insulted.  “So,” he says, unable to stop himself from smiling in a way that will probably definitely terrify Hinata, “What stuff _are_ you ready for?”

Hinata takes one big step back and offers Kageyama an extended hand to shake, like an idiot.  “I think that’s enough for today!  See you tomorrow Kageyama!  Nice practicing with you!”

Kageyama smacks his hand away but it’s light, playful.  “Fine, idiot.  I can wait.”  Then, muttering very, very softly, he adds, “Besides, I already know what it’s like to do _certain stuff_ with you.”

Hinata picks up on this, and Kageyama can’t decide if he’s pleased or mortified.  Hinata smirks devilishly and lets out a smug little whistle. “Kageyama!  Are you saying you have dirty dreams about me?”

“Tomorrow then,” Kageyama says in response, walking off.

***

Things progress slowly but pleasantly.  As much as Hinata likes to rush head-first into everything, he’s cautious when it comes to his relationship with Kageyama.  Kageyama doesn’t mind; he likes to think, deep down, Hinata senses the importance of them getting it right, if not the consequences of them getting it wrong.

It takes a week for Hinata to decide that he’s ready for kissing, behind the gym after practice one day.

“Wait!” Hinata squawks, covering his face with his hands.  “Wait wait wait!”

“What?” Kageyama asks, exasperated but trying not to show it.  “Did you change your mind?”

“No,” Hinata hurries to say.  “But!  If you kiss me, I might be... like, gwaah!”

“You’re always like that,” Kageyama says, sighing.  “And for some inexplicable reason, I like you anyway.”

Kageyama fights every instinct to simply grab Hinata’s stupid face and smash their lips together; instead, he moves very slowly, all too aware that Hinata still looks like someone awaiting execution.  But this was Hinata’s idea, and he doesn’t tell Kageyama to stop, so Kageyama leans in and very gently presses their lips together.  He recites the national anthem in his head to keep from doing anything further.  It’s quick and chaste, but after he pulls away, Kageyama can feel an idiotic smile already spreading.  Then he opens his eyes and looks at Hinata and his smile flips back to his trademark frown.

Hinata looks confused.

“Why didn’t that feel like the first time we did that?” Hinata asks, touching his lips.

Kageyama says nothing, not wanting to make himself sound insane by suggesting that, perhaps, because they _had_ done it—many times before.

“Now whose having dirty dreams about who?” he says instead, flicking Hinata in the forehead.

“I have not!  Ever!” Hinata squeaks, indignant.  “But, you know.  That first one was kinda weird so maybe we should try again.”

And so they do, again and again until a teacher catches them and frantically shoos them home.

***

_Hinata sits half on his lap while Kageyama plays, pausing at some moments to jot down notes and at others to gently push Hinata’s mouth away from his neck.  Hinata finished his part days ago and is now supposed to be helping Kageyama with his, but he’s been much more efficient at distracting Kageyama away from music altogether._

_“Have you thought of a title yet?” Kageyama asks, gently elbowing Hinata when he starts licking his ear._

_Hinata shakes his head no, then falls into Kageyama’s side and nearly knocks him sideways off the piano bench._

_“I was thinking ‘Éclipse Solaire’,” Kageyama mumbles, pulling himself back up and repositioning his fingers on the keys.  He feels Hinata nodding yes into his shoulder, and then he grabs hold of Kageyama’s bicep and gently tugs at him, showing a toothy smile that Kageyama can’t refuse.  “Fine,” he says, allowing himself to be lead away, “But then we have to focus on finishing this.”_

_Hinata nods and nods, smiling and leading Kageyama over to the sofa.  “Your playing will go downhill if you keep slacking off,” Kageyama grumbles, though he can’t help but smile too, when Hinata pushes him down and clambers on top._

_“Maybe I just prefer to practice other things,” Hinata signs back, grinning.  He pushes his hands into Kageyama’s hair and kisses him deeply, and Kageyama can’t help but think Hinata doesn’t need practice when it comes to this.  With the curtains drawn and the doors locked, they part only as much as is necessary to remove their clothing before sealing back together again.  Hinata is soundless as he rides Kageyama, nothing but air escaping him, so Kageyama cups his cheeks and watches his face to make sure he’s fine, and he clearly is, still smiling despite the effort of moving his body so perfectly._

Kageyama is still hard when he wakes up, but what he reaches for first is not his dick, but his notebook.

 _Éclipse Solaire,_ he writes, feeling only a little insane.  This is important, he thinks, maybe even a real way to confirm his suspicions that these dreams are more than just that.  He unlocks his phone and types it into the search bar, then nearly drops his phone when he sees there’s an entire Wikipedia page about it.  Hands shaking and heart beating loudly in his ears, Kageyama reads.

The foreword is brief; it explains it’s a composition scored for two instruments, one piano and one violin, written and released in 1742, but then Kageyama scrolls down to a much longer section entitled _Myths and Theories_.  Here, it discusses the muddled history of this popular piece, how it was long believed to be the work of a single composer, but then later in the 1900s an anonymous source published evidence that it was in fact two men working together.  Later historians tended to agree with this anonymous person, Kageyama read, with some even theorizing that the two were in an illegal homosexual relationship and used the pseudonym to hide themselves from public scrutiny, rather than out of humility.

There’s a sample of the composition included in the article, so Kageyama clicks on it.  He recognizes it immediately as the song he played that day in the music room.

***

 _Kageyama!_ Hinata is obviously shouting at him, but Kageyama can’t hear through his earbuds and the notes of the _Éclipse Solaire_.  The image of Hinata’s mouth moving without sound brings up so many happy memories that Kageyama can’t help but smile, and this makes Hinata look very, very concerned.

“Why are you smiling?” he asks.  Kageyama pauses his mp3 player and pops out just one earbud. 

“Since when is smiling a bad thing?” Kageyama counters.

“It’s not, but when you do it, it’s...” Hinata says, trailing off and craning his neck to further inspect Kageyama’s cheery expression.  “Unnatural.”

“You should sleep over tonight,” Kageyama says, suddenly deciding this is a great idea.  “My house will be empty.”

Hinata’s face, as expected, explodes with red.  He opens his mouth to say _hell no_ , but Kageyama cuts him off.  “I’m not going to try anything!  I just want to spend some time with you.  I’ll cook you dinner.”

“You can cook?” Hinata asks, incredulous. 

“I can buy you whatever you want from the Lawson near my house,” Kageyama corrects.

“Okay then,” Hinata agrees.

Kageyama continues to smile throughout the day, unnerving his classmates and teachers in the process.  In one morning, he found proof he isn’t crazy, and Hinata agreed to a first date.  He smiles when they walk together, holding hands, to Lawson, and continues to smile when Hinata gleefully picks out way too much food and bounces on his heels from pleasure at the sight of Kageyama footing the entire bill.

They watch old volleyball games and talk smack about the players in between bouts of making out and some light groping, and when it comes time to sleep and Hinata insists on sleeping on a futon on the floor— _‘not because I don’t trust you, Kageyama, but I wouldn’t want you acting out stuff if you go and have another dirty dream!’_ —Kageyama doesn’t have any desire to fight him.  He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

_Hinata is alone in a room surrounded only by puppets, dozens of puppets, and Kageyama can feel them watching him, judging him, with their identical sets of blue eyes.  Hinata is curled up on the floor wailing like an injured animal, his entire body wrecked with so much sorrow Kageyama is worried he’ll die from it.  Kageyama wants to go to him, to reach for him, but he isn’t really there, and he’s forced to watch, completely helpless._

_He watches as Hinata calms just enough to pick up a half-finished puppet and, with shaking fingers, start attaching strings with needle and thread.  Hinata never stops rocking and weeping and muttering about how it’s not right.  He finishes it, lets out of a sob, tosses it aside, and then begins immediately making another.  Kageyama screams at him to stop, to ask someone for help, to at least rest or eat something, but he isn’t really there and Hinata doesn’t hear him.  He’s forced to watch as Hinata finally slumps over and he can’t do anything when Hinata stops breathing._

_Kageyama gains control of his body outside a door, and although he knows exactly what he’s going to find inside, he can’t stop himself from pushing it open.  The scene is exactly as it was, except for the woman sobbing over Hinata’s body.  When Kageyama enters the room, she turns to him and starts screaming, her eyes overflowing with completely understandable rage.  “You’re too late!”_

_“I know,” Kageyama says, his voice barely working.  He wants to go to Hinata but can’t; he doesn’t even have the right to grieve, not when it’s all his fault, so he just sinks to his knees in the doorway and weeps._

“Kageyama!” Hinata is shouting, but Kageyama can hardly hear over his own gasping sobs.  He opens his eyes and can barely see, but Hinata is there, hovering not even an inch from his face.  “Wake up!”

Kageyama reaches for Hinata without thinking, pulling him flush against his chest.  He tries to apologize but he can’t speak; he can only gasp for air and cling and hope Hinata can read his mind.  _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._   Hinata looks stricken, but he’s allowing himself to be crushed and rocked.  “I’m sorry,” Kageyama finally manages to croak out.

“For _what_?” Hinata asks, panicked. 

“I was too late again,” Kageyama explains.

“In your dream?”

“They’re not dreams,” Kageyama says, and then he’s overtaken by another round of sobs.

“Have you been having nightmares?” Hinata asks.  Slow as he is, Kageyama can see the realization hit him.  “Is this why you’ve been acting so _weird_?  You’ve been having nightmares?  Why didn’t you tell anyone!?”

He thinks of the Hinata in his nightmare, slowly wasting away, completely alone.  If only he’d asked for help.  “I’m sorry,” Kageyama repeats.

“You didn’t do anything, stupid; they’re just dreams,” Hinata insists.

Kageyama is too exhausted to argue, so he just drops his head on Hinata’s shoulder.  When he calms down enough for them to rearrange themselves for sleep, Kageyama only remembers Hinata’s desire to sleep on the floor moments before sleep pulls him under.  He jerks up, protesting, but Hinata shushes him and only clings tighter.  “It’s fine,” Hinata mumbles.  “You’re too stupid to molest me in your sleep anyway.”

The next morning is deeply uncomfortable.  Even the feeling of waking up wrapped in Hinata’s arms is completely overshadowed by the humiliation of having completely lost his shit.  Hinata assures him it’s fine, but Kageyama can tell that he’s still freaked out.  Part of him wants to explain, in detail, to force Hinata to try and play a violin, to intentionally trigger his own memories, but then he risks Hinata having nightmares too, and if the dreams have taught Kageyama anything, it’s the importance of protecting Hinata.

Things go back to normal for eight days, but then it’s Hinata whose house is going to be empty, and he wants Kageyama to stay over.  The horrified look must give him away, because Hinata sighs and pulls Kageyama into a very awkward hug.  “Are you scared you’re gonna have another nightmare?” 

The last week treated him fairly kindly, with only one mildly upsetting dream and the rest perfectly pleasant, but he can’t forget how scared Hinata had looked that night.

“Kageyama,” Hinata says, growing petulant.  He shakes Kageyama as hard as he can.  “Why did you ask me about reincarnation that one time?”

“I don’t remember that,” Kageyama lies.

“You keep saying they’re not dreams,” Hinata presses.

“I was joking,” Kageyama offers, completely unconvincingly.

“God, you’re so freaking stupid!” Hinata shouts.  “What I’m trying to say is, so what if all that stuff really happened?  That wasn’t you, okay?  You haven’t messed up!  I’m totally fine!  See!”  He leans back and makes little dancing motions complete with jazz hands, but pauses when Kageyama pulls him back into the hug.

“Good, and you’d better stay fine,” Kageyama mutters into a very stunned Hinata’s hair.

***

Over time, Kageyama learns to open up to Hinata about the specifics of his dreams.  Eventually he even lets Hinata read directly from his notebook—albeit with heavy censorship—and though he’s never sure if Hinata actually believes any of it or is merely humoring him, he never laughs or calls him crazy, and he’s always there to comfort Kageyama when the nightmares come.  None of this ever seems to trigger recollections in Hinata, but it remains a worry in the back of Kageyama’s mind.

That worry is what keeps Kageyama from letting Hinata listen to _Éclipse Solaire_ , something Hinata fights with increasing intensity, especially after he learns Kageyama uses it to calm down after nightmares on nights Hinata isn’t around.

“I’m afraid you’ll start having nightmares too,” Kageyama admits, holding the mp3 player high above his head.  They’re sitting on his bed together and were supposed to be studying, but then Hinata had brought it up, _again_ , when he saw the thing poking out from under Kageyama’s pillow, and sure sign he’d had a nightmare the previous night.

“I can handle it!” Hinata assures, jumping up and swiping at it.  “Besides, you said yourself most of the dreams are actually pretty cool!  So gimmi!”  He snatches one of the dangling earbuds and yanks the small electronic from Kageyama’s grip.  When he plugs them in, shushes Kageyama, and listens, Kageyama holds his breath, unsure if he’s waiting for Hinata to recognize it, or out of fear that he will.  When Hinata pulls the earbuds out and smiles, no sign of recognition on his face, Kageyama finds himself feeling only intense relief.  “So, we did that, huh?”

“You’re making fun of me,” Kageyama mumbles, averting his eyes.

“I’m not, I swear!”

“It’s fine,” Kageyama says, huffing.  “I don’t need you knowing how badly I messed up all your past lives.”

“I don’t care about that,” Hinata says, crawling into his lap and leaning into his chest.  “So long as you don’t mess up this one!”

“We were always happiest when we were together,” Kageyama explains, not really caring if Hinata truly believes any of it.  “And really terrible things only happen when we’re apart.”

“Wait,” Hinata says, narrowing his eyes.  “Are you saying if I dump you, the world will end?”

“Yes,” Kageyama answers.  He smiles, then, and Hinata pushes him over onto his back.

“Idiot.”

That night, they try some new things and Hinata is very, very loud, and Kageyama is very grateful for it.

***

The dreams never go away entirely but they do diminish with time, crowded out by new memories of this new and better life.  When he does have nightmares, which is rarely, he remembers to appreciate them—they are, after all, important reminders to keep Hinata safe and happy, this boy who, to him, is home.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are the lifeblood of us unknown authors, so please consider leaving some for me? <3 Even just a few words would let me know people are reading and make my week. Criticism is also welcome--I'm still new to writing and I know I'm not perfect. :)
> 
> Tumblr - dayoldcupcake (Be my friend!)


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